Gail Koger [Koger - The Trouble With Tigers

The Trouble
with Tigers

Gail Koger

Copyright August 2019 by Gail Koger

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Gail Koger. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors rights. Purchase only authorized copies.

Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Published in the United States of America

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events, existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contents

This book is dedicated to my parents.

They call me Doctor Doolittle. I was two years old when my parents realized I could talk to the animals. How did they discover my unusual talent? They found me in the backyard surrounded by birds, skunks, coyotes, jackrabbits, dogs, cats and a big-ass mountain lion. I was giggling happily and petting them. My poor dad almost had a stroke.

To say I have a unique family would be an understatement. My moms obsession with Christmas landed me with the swell name of Kandi Cain. Our home is a shrine to Santa and his elves. Dont even get me started on moms need to dress as an elf every friggin day. It doesnt matter if its August, shes wearing a red tunic with red, green and white stripped leggings and curly toed shoes. Moms big into peace on Earth and goodwill to all. My dad not so much.

My father, Nick Cain, is a very large Santa look-a-like. He was a mob enforcer for the Gambino family until he met my mother at a Christmas party. It was love at first sight. To keep her safe, my Dad quit his job and they quietly moved from New York to Apache Junction, Arizona. Apache Junction is a small tourist town located at the base of the Superstition Mountains. The town caters to people interested in visiting the numerous ghost towns and hunting for the Lost Dutchmans gold mine.

When Dad isnt playing Santa, hes a member of the Superstition Mountains Search and Rescue squad and a highly sought-after rattlesnake wrangler.

I inherited my psychic abilities from Grandma Hester; along with her pet detective agency and her dazzling pink gingerbread house. To make things even more interesting, I just acquired the power to communicate with the spirit world. Maybe I can finally find out how my grandmother really died.

Dutch Callaghan, my sexy-as-hell, pain-in-the-butt neighbor, is a Phoenix PD homicide cop. Our relationship started off on the wrong foot. I was hired to rescue a Yorkie from a brutal dog fighting ring and Dutch was investigating several murders. At the time, I didnt know our cases were connected and went in disguised as an elderly nun. Lets just say the Ninja Nun blew the hell out of Dutchs undercover operation, but hey, I rescued all those poor critters. Dutch still holds a grudge, even after I used my special talents to help him apprehend the murder suspects.

Dutch decided he wanted a relationship with me. I would love to have hot monkey sex with him, but thats not gonna happen. I knew the minute Dutch discovered my fathers former occupation hed slap the handcuffs on. Bad things happen when my father gets angry.

Staying a step ahead of a determined cop is not that easy. Especially, when said cop considers me his personal psychic and animal whisperer.

Sweat slithered down my face and neck as I tried to coax a herd of costumed baby goats down the roadway. Id get them under control and poof! They would see a butterfly or a cat and off they would go again. Their cries filled the air. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa.

To my surprise, my Yorkie, Tinkerbell, was great at moving the unruly goats in the direction I wanted them to go. Her protective boots clacked on the hot pavement as she quickly guided the hippty-hoppity strays back to the group. One of her ancestors must have had some sheep dog in them.

Two patrol cars followed me with their lights flashing. They were supposed to keep us from getting hit, but the cars kept whizzing by. The irate drivers expressed their annoyance by loudly honking their horns. Which made the already skittish goats even more nuts.

Mother Goose youre not, Dutch yelled from the safety of the sidewalk.

Why was he wearing a suit and tie in this heat? His big-ass grin made me want to summon a nearby flock of pigeons to shit on him. But I had promised not to do that again. So, I gave him the one-finger salute instead.

Dutchs amusement quickly vanished when a Channel Five News van squealed to a stop on the sidewalk, barely missing his foot. His teeth bared in a snarl Dutch confronted the driver. A cameraman bailed out of the van and started filming the baby goats running amok.

The anxious owner, who was dressed as Mother Goose, stood in the librarys driveway with a pail of milk.

I linked with the little brats. Lookie! Milk!

Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. The baby goats charged their owner, knocking her down and spilling the milk.

The officers bailed out of their cars, started grabbing goats and stuffing them in the back of a horse trailer.

My cellphone rang. I tapped my Bluetooth earbud. Hello.

Ive got a situation. Meet me at Hilbertos, a deep male voice commanded.

Kinda busy right now, Harry. I grabbed a goat wearing a pink bow and curly wig before it could run out into traffic. Naa. Naa. Naa.

There was a long pause before Harry asked, Is that a goat?

It is. I took off running after another goat who was trying to commit suicide in traffic. No. No. No. Bad baby.

Tinkerbell nipped the baby in the butt and chased her back to the owner.

Harry sniggered. You made breaking news again and how in the hell did you get suckered into goat herding?

Lets just say the Mother Goose story hour at the local library didnt go as planned. Ill meet you in an hour.

Roger that. The line went dead.

My friend Harry is a radical animal rights activist who regularly breaks the law. During the day hes an investigator for the Humane Society. His boss has no idea of Harrys after-hours escapades or that he uses their resources to track offenders.

Harrys the size of a small mountain and deadly in a fight. He likes to brag about the time he was The Rocks stunt double in one of those scorpion movies. He still wears his red hair in those awful dreadlocks. They reminded me of molting snakes. Ugh.

Naa. Naa. Naa. Naa. Dutch walked up holding a squirming goat dressed in an orange duck costume. Whose bright idea was it to bring nine baby goats to story time?

Believe it or not, the head librarian. I put the goats in the trailer and added sarcastically, Theyre just so cute.

The Captain is beyond pissed.

Thats because Mother Goose there is his wife, I said with a laugh.

Dutchs eyebrows shot up in surprise. Captain Black has goats?

And horses, chickens and a rather mean bull, I replied.

You know this how?

My mom buys fresh eggs from them. I glanced down at my watch.

Got another critter to corral?

No. A lunch date, I said, trying not to grin at Dutchs narrow-eyed gaze. Harry was happily married.

With a man?

Yeah. Thats why its called a date. I scooped Tinkerbell up.